I met the most arresting looking man I'd ever seen in the nearby coffee house. It had been a fucking bland day, the sky was weepy and grey, the benches outside were spotty with pigeon poo and lonely looking. The warmness of the coffee place with the dim lights and music filled atmosphere attracted me. I was in a trashy mood, my clothes were slutty looking and my thigh-high boots were mud-splattered still worn from last night. My cappuccino was watery but at least I felt warm. My mind was empty and still a little fucked up from the night at one of my customer's socialite parties. There had been too many fake tittied pam-lookalikes and sneering over-sexed pricks at that mansion, but the booze was free and that kept me happy. I hadn't had a good week. My chin had been resting on the edge of the chipped table and my body was slumped when He gracefully entered the chiming door. I hadn't spotted him at first, my eyes were focused on the group of high schoolers at the booth across of me. One of the boys, with long shaggy hair and a silly lip-ring, was making eyes at me. He nudged his buddies discreetly, careful not to make it obvious to their girlfriends chatting away. I spread my legs, flashing them almost my inner-thigh, trailing my fingertips upward slightly, and then stopped. They blinked and looked up, just in time to see me to curl my lip at them and give them the bird. I turned and sighed unhappily. I swirled my drink sloppily around before rolling my eyes up at Him from the table. My heart seemed to skip a beat. I know, I know, that’s clichéd and all, but it was accurate! He wasn't classically handsome I decided, after a thorough look-over. Too much unshaved stubble and long unruly hair. But he had fucking smoothly sharp cheek-bones, I thought tilting my head in wonder. Lips, almost too plush for a man and a long straight nose. Tall, dark, muscular and fatally handsome. His eyes were impressive, darkly long-lashed and drowningly black. And He was staring right back at me. I was pretty surprised by that and I sat up straighter and tried to look nonchalant. My eyes wondered up again against my will. His stare was unwavering and intense. I stared back and frowned. He seemed to shake himself a little and after a moment, continued on his way to the coffee counter. I looked down at myself and grumbled. No wonder he was looking at me so strange. My skirt was a little too hiked up and the top of my black bra was showing from my shirt. I remember thinking that He musta been weirded out by such a hookerish presence in such a normal cafe, and that it wasn't too far from the truth. I was a stripper at the Pink Jaguar a few blocks away. My show name was Snow White, cheesy, I know. But it seemed to fit my naturally white blonde hair and pale skin, even though the Disney character had black hair. My boss insisted for me to always dress up in princess costumes and fairy dresses. I think that bastard got a kick out of it. After my first dance on my very first day, a little bit of my pride and hope died, I think. To see so many men and women with penetrating eyes and nasty jeers made me feel like I was actually like a prostitute, getting fucked for hours and then patted on the rump after. But I stayed there because I was hungry and the pay was pretty good. not finished